


despite the watchful gaze of the world

by chasingjupiter



Series: when night comes, we will carve our own secret [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:48:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29906181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasingjupiter/pseuds/chasingjupiter
Summary: Soonyoung and Jihoon suddenly get married.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Series: when night comes, we will carve our own secret [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2199036
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	despite the watchful gaze of the world

(1)

Hansol’s hands move to the beat of a song he’s vaguely acquainted with. They’re a well-oiled machine: the TV thumps out a downbeat, Hansol’s fingers curl to squeeze Seungkwan’s tight shoulders, Seungkwan lurches forward and reattains balance just in time for the next downbeat to drop. Seungkwan’s eyes are unmoving from the TV screen. Hansol glances up; it’s a new girl group doing a Wonder Girls cover. That makes sense. He redirects his attention to Seungkwan’s sore shoulders.

The song thumps, thumps, thumps to an end, and with the final clatter of drumsticks Seungkwan lets out a whoop. “That was great,” he says excitedly, twisting to look back at Hansol. “Right?”

“Yeah, it was pretty good,” he shrugs.

Seungkwan’s eyes flash. “But no one does it like the Wonder Girls,” he emphasizes. “Right?”

The coquettish tilt to Seungkwan’s chin prompts Hansol to assure him, “No, no one.”

An ad for milk plays, flashing white and green and sky blue into Hansol’s eyes. Seungkwan continues talking. “I was just saying to Soonyoung the other day that these newbies never quite get the energy right for covers. But that oaf doesn’t know a single thing about the proper girl group energy. A few more months of my coaching, maybe, and he’ll understand…”

Hansol pulls his eyes away from the milk to Seungkwan. He looks thoughtful, probably plotting something, and after several moments during which the TV loudly advocates for IKEA, Seungkwan jumps. “Why are you looking at me? Is there something on my face?”

He blinks. “I like you.”

Seungkwan topples into Hansol’s chest. “Stop doing that,” he grouses. “I know you just like getting a reaction out of me.”

“You’re always surprised by it, though,” he tells him.

“I know,” he grumbles. “I shouldn’t be. It’s your face, you know. Now, what was I talking about?”

“Soonyoung,” Hansol supplies.

“Aw, were you actually paying attention to me?” he marvels. Then, sitting upright abruptly, an expression of total scheming delight on his face, he lowers his voice to a coy whisper. “Speaking of Soonyoung, have you heard yet?”

“Probably not.”

Seungkwan shifts into a more comfortable position in Hansol’s lap. “Get this,” he says, eagerly, “Soonyoung and Jihoon are getting married.”

“What!” Hansol gapes, hands instinctively flying up to bracket his head. “When?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I misspoke,” he amends, looking as if he did not, in fact, misspeak, and was waiting for this. “They already got married.”

Bewildered, he continues staring at Seungkwan in shock. “No, really?”

“Yes,” Seungkwan confirms, sounding very satisfied. He then swivels back around and points cheekily at his shoulders. Hansol smiles and his hands go back on the job.

There’s an idol band onstage, now, and they fall back into routine. Thump, squeeze, lurch. So Soonyoung and Jihoon had gotten married. He wonders what their parents said to that. Thump, squeeze, lurch. He had heard, some three years ago, that when they started dating their parents weren’t very receptive at first. If this was some kind of elopement, then they would certainly have something to say about the matter. Thump, sq- “Ow!” Seungkwan whips around to glare, without heat, at Hansol, who apologetically smiles. “I accept your apology,” he says before Hansol has a chance to say anything. Thump, squeeze, lurch.

(2)

“They know what they’re doing. These kids aren’t dumb.”

“See, that’s what I would have said two days ago before I found out they decided to get married without telling anyone.”

A loud sigh crackles down the line. “I know… I wish they would’ve at least consulted us, or something.”

“Think about their poor parents. They must be worried out of their minds!”

“Yes, yes, I know. Think about these poor kids. What if they come to regret it?”

“These poor kids?” A scoff. “As you said, they know what they’re doing. They’ll crash and burn and their parents will be left to pick up the pieces.”

“Yes, but… Oh, nevermind. You’re as stubborn as always.”

“I’m not stubborn—”

“Right.”

“—I’m just practical. Look at them. Who’s going to feed them when they get laid off? Where are they going to live when they get evicted?”

“Being practical is being cynical now?”

“Who’s being cynical? It’s inevitable. You might as well admit it now.”

“Oh, why don’t you just put down the phone and go wash your dishes if you have nothing better to do.”

“Fine, I will.” A tentative pause, two taps of a slippered foot, and—“You’ll let me know if Mingyu tells you anything, right?”

“Of course, you gossipy bat. And you with Myungho?”

“Oh, alright. But you know he doesn’t let anything slip.”

“That I do.”

(3)

The bus’s windshield wipers work away at the skidding rain, and Soonyoung wiggles his toes. He feels gross everywhere, a tired, sagging kind of gross. If he didn’t know that Jihoon would scold him for it, he would’ve just walked right home, despite his aching feet and the relentless rain and everything. Then he wouldn’t have to wait in traffic, share air with strangers and worry if he smells, or feel self-conscious about wiggling his toes. It’s a twitchy habit he gets when he’s sitting down.

Jihoon likes to call them his dancing toes. Thinking of Jihoon makes Soonyoung feel older than ever—he can’t wait to go home to his doting husband after a long day of work, kiss him on the cheek before they eat dinner, and fall asleep together squished onto their full-sized mattress. If this is what being old is like, Soonyoung loves it.

The bus groans to a stop again, and Soonyoung catches a glimpse, past the rain-speckled window, of a little flower stand. Before he realizes what he’s doing, his dancing toes are carrying him out of the bus and trading several bills for a bouquet of water-logged tulips. Cradling his tulips in one arm and rubbing his eyes with his free hand, he looks up at the sky.

It’s a deep cloudy indigo, dripping heavy droplets of rain to splat right on his forehead. Should he risk it? If he started walking now, he’ll get home to Jihoon sooner, but then his husband will scold him for gambling his health. If he waits for the bus, he’ll have to brave twenty minutes of wistful longing. He pictures Jihoon’s disapproving face and makes his way to the bus stop. He can handle it. He’s old now, after all.

Jihoon helps him out of his coat as soon as he steps through the door. It sends a smattering of raindrops to the floor, and Soonyoung winces as Jihoon steps in the tiny puddles with dry, sock-clad feet.

“Were you waiting by the door?” he asks, after pressing an earnest kiss to Jihoon’s cheek the way he’d been imagining for the past twenty minutes.

Jihoon shakes his head. “Was in the bedroom, but I heard the lock turn.”

He laughs. There’s nothing funny about any of it, any of it at all, but the happiness pools into his chest and builds a warm laugh in his lungs. “I was going to ‘Honey, I’m home!’ it up, but your ears are just too sharp.”

“Maybe if you didn’t fumble to insert a key into its lock every time you could be more stealthy.” Jihoon pats him on the cheek. “I heated the water for you. Go shower, and come eat.”

“My God, I love you,” Soonyoung says fervently.

Jihoon smiles, a crooked little thing. “I know. Are these flowers for me?”

“No, they’re for my husband,” he says. “Would you happen to know where he is?”

“Just one moment,” Jihoon tells him. “Close your eyes.” Soonyoung obliges, and as the flowers are removed from his grip his eyes start to open. He’s met with Jihoon’s face inches away, and, surprised, he lets out a giggle. Jihoon looks slightly sheepish but continues closing the distance. “He’s right here,” he breathes, and kisses him full on the mouth. Soonyoung’s eyes fall closed again.

Jihoon pulls away. “Go shower now,” he gently instructs. “I’ll put these in water.”

“They already have plenty of water,” Soonyoung jokes, padding to the bathroom.

When he emerges freshly showered and redressed, Jihoon has trimmed the tulips and slipped them into one of their taller mugs. “Forgot we don’t have vases,” Jihoon explains as Soonyoung sits down at their petite dining table.

“The tulips can drink coffee dregs with the rest of us.”

Jihoon lightly swats him on the shoulder. “They deserve better than that.” He takes out two plates from the microwave and hands them to Soonyoung, who arranges them across from each other on the table. 

Delighted with recognition, Soonyoung declares, “It’s-”

“Pasta and shrimp, yes,” Jihoon finishes for him. “There’s no need to tell me what I cooked. Do you want a fork or chopsticks?”

“Chopsticks. Did you make it because I said I wanted pasta last week?”

Jihoon passes him a pair of chopsticks. “What do you think?”

“I think you like me very much and would absolutely make me pasta because I want it.”

“I think you are a very spoiled baby.”

Soonyoung grins and holds up his chopsticks, one in each hand. “Spoiled by you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jihoon stands awkwardly before the table, and mysteriously doesn’t sit down. When Soonyoung cocks a head in confusion, Jihoon rubs his face roughly, looking a little red. Then, in one swift movement, he shuffles his chair over to be next to Soonyoung’s, and moves his plate accordingly. Soonyoung looks to him with wide, beaming eyes, and Jihoon doesn’t meet them, reaching for his fork. “Stop gawking and eat your pasta,” Jihoon tells him, not unkindly.

“Yes, my love,” Soonyoung croons, picking up his chopsticks and eating at a rapid pace. “This is delicious, my love.”

“Sure,” Jihoon allows.

As they eat, Soonyoung regales him with lively stories of his work—all the nauseating details involved in his veterinary profession. To Jihoon’s credit, he doesn’t so much as flinch at the grody parts. He just eats quietly and makes faces at Soonyoung, scrunching up his nose every time he mentions a grisly procedure.

“Are you actually listening to me?” Soonyoung asks at one point, curious.

“Yeah,” Jihoon shrugs. “You were just talking about how the new intern has no idea what she’s doing and is probably scared of dogs.”

“Oh.” Soonyoung looks down at his pasta. “You really love me, huh?”

(4)

“They’re unbelievable!” Chan yells as soon as Wonwoo accepts the call.

“Who?”

Chan huffs into the receiver. “Soonyoung and Jihoon, of course. Who else?”

“What did they do this time?”

“They got married.”

Wonwoo drops the phone, and in spite of himself, Chan smiles. “When did this happen?” Wonwoo asks, when he’s retrieved his phone from the ground.

“Apparently just a few days ago.” Chan goes quiet. “Why do you think they didn’t tell us they were planning on getting married?”

He hums. “Maybe they wanted to keep it private.”

“But we’re their best friends!”

“But we’re not part of their relationship.”

Chan sighs. “You’re right.” They fall silent for a few moments while Chan thinks. “I’m worried about them.”

“Me too,” Wonwoo admits. “But I think they’ll be okay. They always are.”

“Even though this is probably the dumbest thing they’ve done in the history of their relationship?”

“Yeah.”

Another moment of silence. Wonwoo takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “How did it happen?” he asks, inquisitive.

“Jihoon proposed,” Chan shares, sounding much more good-natured now. In response to Wonwoo’s surprised echo, he adds, “Apparently they were just on a walk, looking at the trees, and then Jihoon clasped Soonyoung’s hands and asked him to marry him. Nothing special.”

“That sounds very special,” Wonwoo muses.

“I guess so,” Chan acknowledges, scratching at the back of his neck. “Don’t you think Soonyoung would want something more, I don’t know, romantic? Flashy?”

Wonwoo mulls it over. “I think Soonyoung is happy to accept whatever Jihoon wants to give him.”

Chan doesn’t reply immediately, but then mutters, “That’s very romantic of you to say.”

“I know,” Wonwoo says, smugly. “I’m a very romantic person.”

(5)

Their apartment has one south-facing window, before which a single potted plant sits. Beside it, a pint-sized spray bottle usually resides. At nine in the morning, though, it can be found in Soonyoung’s grasp as he fawns over their houseplant.

“You get ‘em, tiger, you’re doing so good,” he coos, stroking its broad leaves lightly. The sun warms the floor where he’s knelt, and he looks up and out at morning in full swing. Spring is kind, and abundant, in the mornings. Soonyoung gets up to throw the window open, and bask in spring, and he’s taking deep breaths a pair of arms encircle his waist.

“Good morning,” Jihoon mumbles into his back.

Soonyoung twists an arm back to pet Jihoon’s hair. “Good morning, my love. How are you?”

“Tired,” he says. “Kiss me.”

“Yes, my sweet,” Soonyoung sing-songs, and spins around to plant a resounding kiss on Jihoon’s awaiting lips. “Did you sleep well?” He kisses him again. “Are you hungry?”

“Kind of to both,” Jihoon says absently, chasing Soonyoung’s mouth for more kisses.

“C’mere,” Soonyoung says, and leads them back to the bedroom. He sits down on the bed with a muffled thump, and Jihoon clambers onto his lap without deliberation. Their window doesn’t face directly south; the sun only peeks in like a shy voyeur. The bed is still warm.

Jihoon kisses him lazily, apt for Sunday morning. There’s no heat to the kisses, only a pleasant tingling warmth that sinks into his bones. Somewhat languidly, Jihoon presses Soonyoung back, and they fall into a lying position on the bed, Soonyoung grabbing a pillow to cushion his head.

“Let’s sleep some more,” Soonyoung suggests, and in response Jihoon bumps his nose against Soonyoung’s. He gives him a kiss and curls into his shoulder, snugly fitting himself to Soonyoung’s side. They fall asleep in the tentative spring sun, and though it’s impossible, it seems that the sun inches back to give them their privacy.

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a month ago with my dear onlytwocaptains keeping me company which is probably why i genuinely kind of like this... bit of a welcome for spring :-)  
> please show my beloved onlytwocaptains lots of love on their work of the same prompt because they are very important to me and their writing is simply delightful :D  
> thank you for reading <3


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